


The Impossible Sale

by orphan_account



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bad Lyrics, Bad Poetry, Crack, Gen, Humor, Urban Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 09:38:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11272848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: She's so desperate to sell the thing that even giving it away seems like a good idea.





	The Impossible Sale

**Author's Note:**

  * For [octopus_fool](https://archiveofourown.org/users/octopus_fool/gifts).



Circe thought of herself to be quite adept at keeping the store stocked with not only the best quality items but ones also of a rare nature. She found that the rare ones sold like hot cauldrons.

The one that proved to be the exception to the rule was the staff Circe acquired a few months ago at an altar sale a town over. It was a good bargain so Circe couldn't resist.

A weekend after buying the staff, a potential customer expressed interest in purchasing it. Circe pulled out all the stops. She drew the man in and he looked ready to bite. 

Of course, then something unexpected happened when Circe’s magic activated the staff for the customer to see it in all its glory. The thing actually started singing and it wasn't a soft humming or a gentle lullaby either. It’s singing voice was akin to an opera singer; loud, booming, and echoing everywhere.

“I think I've changed my mind, Ma’am,” the customer blurted out. “An enchanted staff really isn't something I'm looking for.”

“Neither was I!” Circe shouted at the man who was fast walking towards the door.

After several more failed attempts to sell the staff, Circe decided to name the damn thing, Ode. An ironic name that always drew a bitter laugh out of Circe.

Ode’s favorite song to sing was the one that got on Circe’s nerves the most. “My admiration for Circe is so great/ My hilt shines for Her 'til the dusk of day. /Every day she sells, sells, sells/  
And Circe does so, so very well.”

The second verse had to be worse the first; mostly because of the last line. “Her shop is great/ How I wish I had eyes to see. /Selling is what Circe is best at/ Yet for some reason she still can't sell me.”

Circe wasn't sure if Ode knew what if it was saying. Either the staff enjoyed needling Circe or it remained truly ignorant to the words it bellowed out.

During one particular day it started to sing, Circe had enough of it. “Ode will you please be quiet? If you don't, I'll be forced to put you in the storage room with all the other useless stock.”

At this, Ode began to sing a sad tune about being sent to what was essentially the stockade for unwanted merchandise. All three customers looked in the direction of Ode before moving to the door.

Circe groaned. She should just bury the staff somewhere but Circe's pride wouldn't let her do such a thing. There had to be someone in this town, country, hell planet willing to buy Ode.

“Ode, be quiet would you?” Circe hissed. “I'm not going to stuff you into storage to rot away. You will be sold; even if I have to put you at 25% off.”

The staff seemed to agree for it started to sing that infamous song. “My admiration for Circe is so great/ My hilt shines for Her 'til the dusk of day. /Every day she sells, sells, sells/ And Circe does so, so very well.”

“Okay, 50% then.”

She was never going to sell the thing.


End file.
